


two hours later

by maythirtyfirst



Series: twitter au [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Airplanes, Flights, M/M, Twitter AU, mutual pining I guess, yeah this sucks ik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maythirtyfirst/pseuds/maythirtyfirst
Summary: What happened during the 11-hour flight from Paris to Korea?(update for a twitfic!)





	two hours later

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i don’t know if people will read this outside of the twitfic i’m making but welcome to this mess that i made ha ha ha ;u;
> 
> original twitter au [here](https://twitter.com/fairyjww/status/1011974549473251328?s=21)!

Wonwoo fidgets in his seat, and uncomfortably looks out the window.

It’s not like he’s afraid of interacting with the guy beside him. It’s just that... it’s been two hours in the flight and he’s not getting any signs of drowsiness from his body nor of Mr. Gucci wanting to talk to him.

He was okay for the first two hours. He’s reading this PDF of a book that he’s been dying to finish since he arrived in Paris, and it kept him occupied enough to not notice that he’s sitting right beside the person that runs in his mind when he’s not reading.

And he’s not reading right now, so he’s painfully aware of the other’s existence in the quiet cabin.

He’s not really too new with the flirting stuff, too. Contrary to what people believed back when he’s still studying at university, Wonwoo has had two serious relationships - one girl (from the time he’s discovering his sexuality) and one boy, both serious. He’s okay with human interaction. He just wants some time for himself after being stuck in a place with a number of people moving around and minding their own businesses.

So he doesn’t quite understand why he’s getting tongue-tied when it comes to conversing with this guy sitting beside him.

Their earlier conversations flowed out smoothly — they kept asking things about each other, and those questions eventually branched out to different topics. (Exhibit A: when Wonwoo told him he’s a linguist and the next thing he knew, they were out with a discussion if elephants are present in the Amazon.) Wonwoo had fun, to say the least. He’s never had so much fun talking to another person outside of his 96-line squad.

Wonwoo imagined that that fun would continue in the 11 hours that they’re stuck in this aircraft in the sky, but, obviously, he was let down.

He peeks to his side, looking at Mr. Gucci, who is currently fiddling with his phone. He looks like he’s browsing twitter, but Wonwoo doesn’t know why he is when there’s no internet during the flight. Mr. Gucci turns to look at Wonwoo and turns off his phone when he notices him staring for too long, and Wonwoo fights the urge to flinch because of the sudden attention towards his way.

Mr. Gucci removes his earphones and looks at Wonwoo for 3 seconds (which he dreads) before speaking up. “What’s up?” He says, his head tilting a little to the side. (Wonwoo think it’s the cutest.)

“Oh, um...” Wonwoo weighs his options: should he tell the truth and have him creeped out by him, or should he give a lame-ass excuse and embarrass himself further?

He chooses neither and comes up with a different topic instead.

“What are you doing after the flight?” He shoots, and hopes that Mr. Gucci would be distracted by this enough to forget that Wonwoo was staring at his side profile two minutes ago.

He does. “I’m probably going home? My shifts don’t start until the weekend.”

“You did mention that you’re a chef. Is it difficult?”

Mr. Gucci smiles. “Not at all. I’ve loved cooking since I was a little kid, and doing it as a profession has been fulfilling, to say the least.” He looks ahead, seemingly lost in thought. “The past few years of doing it has been fun. I work with this other guy named Seokmin, and he’s a really fun guy to work with. He smiles better than me or anyone I’ve ever known. I’ve always thought that if he wasn’t a chef, he’d be working for the sun.”

Mr. Gucci somehow realizes that he’s been talking for a minute straight, and hurriedly looks at Wonwoo’s way, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m sorry for gushing. I just love my work too much, I guess.”

Wonwoo flashes a reassuring smile. “It’s no problem at all.”

“How about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Or probably the window next to you.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “How’s your work?”

“It’s terrible,” Wonwoo starts. “The work environment is really bad. I mentioned that I’m a linguist, but I actually work as a technical writer, and everything’s just been really bad. The boss is a racist, sexist, fat-shaming piece of shit, and all my co-workers are just sucking it up because the company pays well.”

His seatmate visibly frowns. “That’s awful. Are you thinking of resigning?”

Wonwoo sighs. “Not yet. No matter how much I hate it, I’m able to do the work I want to do, and yeah, the pay is really good as compared to other firms. I’ll probably save up so that I can move to a better firm in the near future, but for now I still have to suck it up, too.”

“Life’s like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

“Unfair. Unjust. Money runs the world so we’re made to make decisions against our wants. We have to sacrifice things so that we’re able to fend for ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees. “It’s quite saddening. I’d make a new world if I could. Just to change how people think and how the world is run. Or a reset button so we can all start from when we were monkeys or something.”

Mr. Gucci laughs at that, and just then, the cart containing their food comes their way.

“For Seat 12B,” the stewardess says, and proceeds to give the tray of food to Wonwoo’s now slid down table, but Wonwoo puts his hands up to stop her.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s his,” Wonwoo points at Mr. Gucci. “We switched seats.”

“Did you two agree on this?” She asks, a small frown creeping on her face, eyeing them.

“Yeah. It was consensual,” Mr. Gucci speaks up, and smiles a bit to the stewardess. Wonwoo wonders if that was some flirting going on, but decides to keep that on the back of his head.

Oh scratch that, Wonwoo can’t keep it to himself.

The stewardess then nods and gives them their respective in-flight meals, and when she moves to the next row, Wonwoo decides to speak up.

“Were you flirting with her?”

Mr. Gucci seems to be taken aback by the question, because he faces Wonwoo with such a shocked expression. However, Wonwoo keeps his cool and focuses on his eyes, determined to find out the truth.

But Mr. Gucci only chuckles.  
And Wonwoo thinks that’s the sound that will welcome him in heaven.

“No,” he says between his (cute) chuckling. “I’m gay.” He says with such a big smile on that Wonwoo can’t help but smile as well.

“Oh.” was the only word that Wonwoo can say, because how would he react if the single question bugging him the whole night was answered by the man himself?

“Are you?” Mr. Gucci asks, still keeping his (again, cute) smile on, that Wonwoo didn’t mind revealing his sexuality.

“I’m gay, too.”

“Oh.”

They eat in silence after that: Mr. Gucci enjoying his food a little bit too much, and Wonwoo’s mind being occupied by his thoughts that may or may not consist of he’s gay oh my god what do i do what do i do what do i do this is too much SOS. That is, until Mr. Gucci finishes his meal and faces Wonwoo to initiate conversation. (Wonwoo notices this habit of his that he has to face the person he’s talking to, and he finds it incredibly endearing.)

“I just realized,” he starts. “If you want to make a new world, then you’ll have be the God, too, right?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I guess.”

“Then you’re definitely not Joseph or anything.”

“I guess not.” Wonwoo wonders where Mr. Gucci is going with this.

“Then what do we call you?”

And Wonwoo’s mind goes oh because it’s been seven hours of being with each other but they still don’t know the other’s name yet. He chuckles at the thought.

“It’s Wonwoo. I’m sorry, I totally forgot.” Wonwoo says, his eyes still crinkling from the ridiculous situation he is in now.

“Wonwoo,” Mr. Gucci repeats, as if he’s trying to keep the name inside his mind, and flashes a big smile, showcasing the beauty that is his canine teeth. (verbatim from Wonwoo’s mind.) “That’s a great name. I’m Mingyu.”

Wonwoo wonders: if they’re this slow-moving with their introductions, what more if he decides to step it up and go through the flirting stage?

Oh boy.

**Author's Note:**

> another display of me liking writing but never being good at it lol
> 
> hmu at [twitter](https://twitter.com/fairyjww) uwu


End file.
